


Shading Identity

by deletingpoint



Category: Numb3rs, Supernatural
Genre: (kinda. it's also complicated), (kinda. it's complicated), Alternative Universe - FBI, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/F, F/M, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Family Feels, I clearly know more about Supernatural than Numb3rs, Journalist Castiel, Librarian Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Multiple, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10107026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deletingpoint/pseuds/deletingpoint
Summary: Sam Winchester has just started to enjoy his new job as a librarian at CalSci, when he notices hushed conversations between his boss Missouri Moseley and one doctor Larry Fleinhardt. He would forget all about it, but a little while later he is brought in for questioning by Don Eppes's team. Who else to call but his brother Dean?Will they be able to work the case together and catch whoever is actually responsible?Set after Numb3rs finale.





	1. The Library (Sam)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Complexity Theory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130867) by [Dendritic_Trees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dendritic_Trees/pseuds/Dendritic_Trees). 



> i'll be on the journey with readers as i know almost as little as you do, but i'm very-very excited about this story!  
> (also, i haven't seen Numb3rs in years, so if anyone wants to point out mistakes, go ahead! i'll try to watch a few epis soon though)

 

First day at a new job at a new place, Sam doesn’t even know how he had managed to pull it off. CalSci was up there in dreams and sure, his job isn’t a high-profile one, but the competition had still been gruesome. He was bound to love it though. The huge library filled with all sorts of books!

Sure, there had been a time when Sam wanted to become a lawyer, but that desire had died after the first semester of studying. It had all been about papers and diplomacy and laws and none of the professors really seemed to care about the people. In addition, he had barely seen Jess, their schedules just truly didn’t match, so in the middle of the schoolyear he made a rash decision of changing his major. He had contemplated about history and English literature, but in the end he decided for information and the librarian profession. It had been the best decision of his life, apart from leaving home that is. He loved every part of it, the information search, the cataloguing, the new ways to approach people and of course, the old books that were considered a rarity. Only thing that required a bit getting used to had been the chilly temperature of archives. And he still managed to take mythology classes to sharpen his knowledge in all things occult. Old habits do die hard.

 

The library building is right beside a fountain and a few trees surrounding the study complex. Sam stops for a second, breathes loudly in and out and rubs his hands nervously, holds his bag a little stronger and finishes the walk to his new work place. There are so many people! He has worked as an apprentice in several colleges, but he has only ever worked full-time at public libraries. Those hadn’t been nearly as big or prestigious. He should really thank Rufus for giving those wonderful recommendations. Without him he wouldn’t be here. He finds the information desk along with a pretty black lady with a judgmental look in her eyes. Her name tag says Alicia.

“Hi, umm, Alicia,” Sam decides to go with the name, “I’m Sam Winchester, I was supposed to…” The girl cuts through before he can finish: “ID?” Sam shows it to her and Alicia’s look softens a bit: “Right, of course, I’ll show you to Pamela, she can fill in all your paper-work,” she gestures to her colleague and gets up.  

Sam hasn’t been here before, both of his job interviews had been held at the main building and without proper documentation he couldn’t just take a look from the threshold. They get to a door, which opens a moment before Alicia gets to knock on it.

“Heya,” sultry voice and sultry look behind black curls make Sam’s heart skip a beat. Are all the girls here this fantastic? “You must be Sam, huh, I’ve been waiting for ya, hop in, gotta just take your picture and that’s that,” Sam can feel her eyeing him and he wouldn’t mind it, but Alicia’s magnificent eye roll makes him cough uncomfortably.

Pamela snorts a laugh and offers a hand: “I’m Pam, by the way.” Sam shakes it.

“I’ll just leave him to your eager hands,” Alicia waves and turns back to the main rooms.

“Now, Sam, you’re gonna be working at the archive at the moment, well unless you’re needed somewhere else, we do work rotations her so, you know, no one would get bored. Now, if you could just take a seat over here,” Pamela’s hands practically manhandle his tall body to a stool, “and I’m gonna take a snap. There we are,” the picture is slowly coming to life, Pam breathes some air onto it, looks at it, looks at Sam and back again and finally nods. “I’ve got your cards and credentials prepared, they really didn’t want us to waste any time,” she adds the photo and seals the plastic card. “There you go!” her smile is as toothy as shark’s. Sam nods and takes his things.

“I’ll show you down-stairs and then Missouri can fill you in on the work itself. And then, when you have some free time, you can always come look for me,” she winks.

“I might just do that,” Sam doesn’t hold back. Sometimes it’s nice to feel wanted and it isn’t as if has someone waiting for him. Things didn’t work out with Jess and it’s been two months since he broke up with Sarah. Pamela kind of reminds her.

 

*

It’s been two months since Sam started here. Days have been busy, but rather fun, Missouri doesn’t joke around, but she’s quite nice. Starting from next week he’s supposed to be working at reading hall 9–B and he’s looking forward to it. He’s seen some beautiful rarities over here, but a little bit of communication would do him some good. He has been to the pub twice with some of his co-workers like Pamela, Ava, Alicia and his twin brother Max, but he still feels a bit like a stranger. The tough life of the new kid. Still, it used to be so much worse when he was still in school … He enters a new code to the register system. _Nine ways of shading your identity_ the book is called. How very amusing and fitting. He creaks his neck and slides fingers through his hair, when he hears someone entering the room. He doesn’t look up before he hears the voice, he doesn’t recognize it.

“Missouri, my old friend!” It’s a small guy with dreamy look in his eyes and an uneven beard.

“Larry Fleinhardt, now, haven’t seen you down here for a long time, did you get lost or did you look for me?” Missouri rises from her desk and pokes a finger at Larry’s chest.

“Where am I again? Oh, that nice girl helped me find you, but I would’ve been here eventually. Inevitability, you see, I would’ve just circled around until I got to my destination.”

“Yees, well, don’t you dare to disappear before I know your reasons.”

“Ah, we haven’t seen for a while, I believe. I do miss our shared staring at the news stand every Monday morning,” the guy smiles thinking of memories, “speaking of disappearings, I have a question for you,” he looks around the room, nods at Sam and two other workers, “it’s about that hiding-in-plain-sight theory we once discussed and you had some alternative thoughts on the matter,” his voice has become so quiet that Sam has to sharpen his hearing to follow the conversation. Why is he listening in anyway? Old habits, probably. Dean would call it gut instinct.

“How alternative are we thinking?” Missouri drums fingers on the table and shifts her gaze around as well.

“It’s more like someone else is thinking this way. There is this case and I fear the consequences of everything that’s happened might be deadly.”

Missouri smacks her lips and guides Larry towards the storage rooms and Sam is unable to hear anything more. Alternative thinking? What could they have been talking about? He can feel the old, almost forgotten thrill come to life. The guy said case? But he seemed to be more like a science person than law enforcement. No, it couldn’t be. Sam smirks at his own thoughts and continues with the work, still keeping a close eye to this Larry Fleinhardt dude. He even searches his name on the internet. A doctor at physics, exactly the type of person to wander around CalSci library. Nothing strange about it.

He observes Missouri writing something on the paper and giving it to Fleinhardt.

“And don’t you forget we still have that game of cards waiting,” Missouri says while she shows the man out, “you don’t want to give me the impression you’re scared of my skills, now do you?”

“Right, I’ll see you and thank you for this. I might not have seen the pattern myself.”

“No patterns, just intuition for me,” Missouri closes the door and smiles too warmly at Sam’s questioning look. “An old friend, did him a little favour.” Sam nods. It’s not as if she owes him an explanation. He still feels as if something bad is looming over his head, instincts are telling him to flee, but he has no idea what to flee from or where to. So he stays and tries to concentrate on his tasks.

 

He sees dr Larry Fleinhardt two more times in coming days, but Missouri immediately takes him to somewhere private. Once, he’s accompanied with a black lady with curly hair and an attitude, that reminds him a little of Dean. The woman walks with a certain stance. She walks like a police officer, to be more precise. She looks around herself like an officer would. Sam hides his head and tries to forget all about the secret conversations. Whatever it is, it can’t have anything to do with him.

Then, he is finally transferred to the reading hall and he feels relief. Missouri’s thoughtful gazes had started to appear in his dreams. So he smiles and talks to people, helps them find certain books, meanwhile always feeling watched.

 

It’s next Tuesday when they come straight for him. His smile fades the moment he sees them. It’s the woman from before, accompanied by a white guy, who seems to be an ex-soldier.

“Samuel Winchester?”

“Yes,” he manages to get his voice under control as he stands and nods.

“FBI, special agents Granger and Betancourt,” the man says. They show their badges. Sam doesn’t need to look at them to know they’re real, but nevertheless he inspects them thoroughly. FBI. This doesn’t sound good.

“Agents, what can I do for you?” he forces a smile. They have nothing on him.

“We would like to have a few words with you, mister Winchester. If you could come to the station that would be very helpful,” Granger says, his tone filled with ice. So they don’t have evidence to arrest him, that’s good.

“Well, can’t we chat over here?” he asks as innocently as possible.

“It would be so much more convenient to do it at the station.”

Right. Of course. So that they could pressure him.

“All right, let me just get my things. Am I allowed to make a phone call?” he knows he is, he’s even allowed to not to talk with them.

“Sure, go ahead,” Betancourt scoffs and Sam reaches for his phone. The contacts list is long, he never deletes anyone, but there is only one number he needs right now. _Dean_ it says, without the last name. He hesitates for a moment, he doesn’t remember when was the last time they talked. Then he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and hits _call._

It rings and rings and rings and he’s about to lose hope, when a rough voice answers: “Yeah, this is Dean speaking.”

“Dean,” he manages before Dean almost yells. “Sammy, is that you? You alright?”

“Umm, I’m in a bit of a trouble actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think, thank you! :)


	2. Interrupted Interrogation (Don)

 

“Yeah, Charlie, everything under control, you go back to your math or your wonderful wife or whatever the else you should be doing instead of talking about hypothetical cases. Yeah, ok, bye,” Don ends the calls with his brother. He’d been observing the man during the conversation. No real signs of distress, except maybe the occasional hand scratching, no shifty eyes or overly confident look. Seems more like a calm and thoughtful person. Still, the hand-thing could be a give-away.

“You talked to him yet?” he nods towards the glass wall and lets his thumbs fall on the waist.

“Just general information. Nothing we didn’t know already, doesn’t reveal anything unnecessarily,” Colby answers while giving him a paper cup of coffee. Don swallows it and grimaces. Absolutely awful. He takes another gulp.

“What do you think? He our guy?”

“He’s good, I can tell you that. Can’t exactly read his body language, so could be. He knows enough.”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a go, ask Nikki to join me and bring some photos along. She’s seen him just working, right?”

“Yep, said he seemed to be too observant for just a librarian,” Colby shrugs his shoulders, “not that that should limit people.”

“I hear you,” Don swallows the last drop of coffee and throws the cup into the bin before leaving to talk to one Sam Winchester, age 31.

He slides the door behind him shut. The man raises his head, his longish hair shifting from his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just follows every step that Don takes. Don places himself opposite side of the desk and takes a seat. He can stay silent when needed too. At least he’s always liked to think so, despite of some people calling him impatient. He drums his fingers on the table: “So, Sam, is that how you go by?”

Sam holds his eyes for a long time. “And how do you go by?” he finally answers. Or more like asks.

Don smirks and fakes a laughter. “Very amusing, I can give you that. Hey, we both know you’re not under arrest, you can walk out of this room any time you want, I’m not holding you.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to fake laugh. He is more quiet about it, more reserved in his answers. “So that the next time you happen to see me, I’ll end up in prison in no time? I know how this work, agent boss,” he chews his lips for a brief second while saying that. He acts cocky, but it doesn’t seem to be natural to him.

“Okay,” Don raises his hands, “you win on that one. The name is Don Eppes, special agent,” the words are followed by the door opening and closing. Nikki finds a seat next to him and hands a few papers to Don. It’s information sheet about Sam Winchester, as well as a few photos of the victims.

“So, Sam, you know why you’re here?” he continues the conversation matter-of-factly and raises his eyes.

“No one has bothered to tell me, so I guess the answer is no.”

“Uh-huh. You gotta lose the attitude, kid, it’s not gonna be helping you.”

Sam let’s out a snicker, this time it seems to genuine, like something about Don made him laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Aah, nothing, just … can we get on with this already.”

“All right, Sam Winchester, you know anything about this?” he slides a photo in front of the suspect. It’s just a shot of the hallway from the first crime scene. There are strange marking on the walls as well as floor. Some of them are usual religious symbols, but some … well, FBI’s experts had no idea what they were meant to be, even Larry had come short. No help from the science side at all, no weird mathematical theories, connecting dots or sprinkling numbers. Just nothing, until Larry had remembered another expert, this time in the field of occult. Missouri had been very helpful.

Sam blinks rapidly and picks up the photo to investigate closely: “Where..,” he starts slowly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. Then he puts it back on the table and looks at Don: “Where was this? When?” Don and Nikki exchange a look, Nikki grabs the photo back, looks at it and back at Sam. It’s clear the guy knows one or two about the symbols.

“You know what they mean, huh?”

Sam’s eyes sharpen and take on a dangerous shade: “Yes, I do know some of them. But I have studied the occult, it’s only natural I would know them. I don’t recognize them all though,” he frowns as if it’s something that is actually puzzling him.

“All right, seems like we’re getting somewhere here, don’t you think, Nikki?”

“Absolutely,” Nikki leans forward, “you think we should continue?”

Don hits another photo on the table. It’s a face of a girl, the first victim.

There is no real reaction, Sam is frowning again, but visibly there doesn’t seem to be any recognition. “Huh,” is the sound he makes.

“What was that?” Winchester raises his head: “Nothing, just, for a moment I thought she looked familiar, but I was mistaken.”

“Really? Who did you mistake her for?”

“The, uh, someone who has been dead for a long time already. It’s not her, just similar.”

“Ookay, let’s move on. I’ll show you one more.”

This time there is a visible reaction. It’s the second victim that does the trick, exactly as Don had anticipated. Sam Winchester clearly recognizes the dead lady on the picture. He coughs for a second.

“I take it that you knew her.” Sam looks at him, but doesn’t say a word. “Can I see the first picture again?” he suddenly asks. Don is a little taken aback by this, but he puts all three photos on the desk.

“This is Meg Masters, also the reason I was brought to this little interrogation, yes, I don’t know the other one. And these markings, they were on the crime scene? And so since I happen to know them and also happened to know Meg once upon a time, you think I’m the killer? I’m not,” he continues without taking a breath, “but you need to find the one who is and fast.”

“Hey! Not your position to tell me how to do my job.”

“Right, of course. So,” he scrubs his eyes and has seemingly lost all of the jokes, “what would you like to know?”

He’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Probably a killer too, has that vicious darkness in his eyes.

“When was the last time you saw miss Masters?”

“About … five years ago. I had just finished my studies.”

“Right. Studies, which consisted of occult?”

“It wasn’t my major, but yes,” Sam shifts a little.

“It wasn’t your major and yet, you have been acknowledged as somewhat of an expert in the matter?”

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert, no, just someone who knows how to pay attention to details and some of my professors liked my thoughts, that’s about all.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts to use these symbols in real life?”

“No, agent Eppes. Thoughts on how to determine how old they are.”

“All right. Meg Masters, what was your relationship?”

“We … weren’t exactly partners.”

“What were you? Was it sexual?”

“Yes, but it was never serious. I had just broken up with my long-time-girlfriend when we met.”

“What was she like?” Nikki asks.

“She … she was reckless, some called her a rebel, but she knew how to be nice as well.”

“So, your father, not really in the picture?”

“No.”

“Used to be a mechanic until your mother’s death. After that you were on the road. Tell me, your dad ever got physical with you or your brother…” Don’s voice fades. There is a note about Dean Winchester, but it’s the first he’s heard of the name.

“What? No, of course not. He was bull-headed and a drunk, but nothing more.”

Don locks eyes with Nikki. Could it be that Dean’s data had been sealed later on? There is nothing else about him. Or had someone just neglected to find his information? She shakes her head.

“You would be amazed at how many people say that about their abusive parents,” he tells Sam.

“So, when did Meg Masters contact you again?”

“She didn’t. That’s just what you want to believe, because it makes your job easier.”

Don has never settled for an easy way.

 

There is a knock on the door. “Don, a word?” Colby looks a bit nervously around. Nikki nods and Don leaves the room. “What’s up? We were just starting something.”

“The hell you were!” There’s a man standing beside Colby, raging in a quiet way.

“I’m sorry, people are not really allowed in here.”

The guy takes in a breath of air and nod quickly: “People, right. See, special agent Don Eppes, I also work for the FBI. I know how this is, you have no legal rights to interrogate my brother, you have no evidence at all against him and you sure as hell have no right to bring up our family situation.”

Don wants to point out that he actually does have the right to talk about anything, but the man just continues: “No, you know what? He has talked enough with you, I would say this interrogation is over, wouldn’t you?”

The angry look, fisted hands and clenches jaw speak for themselves. So this was presumably the brother he knew nothing about, Dean Winchester.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about fbi, us law enforcement or interrogation techniques, just fyi. feel free to point me in the right direction if needed!  
> oh, and it was meg 1.0
> 
> and again, thanks for checking in and it would be most helpful if you'd let me know your thoughts! :)


	3. Continuation (Dean)

 

Dean is taking in the supervising agent, seems like an all-business-no-fun type. Great. Those are always the worst, good at their job, but nosy as all hell. This could become more troublesome than he thought when Sam made that first call. Shit.

“Listen, agent Eppes, I would really advise you to not treat my brother as a suspect. It would _not_ end well for you and you wouldn’t catch the real killer. Cause he might be a huge nerd and a general annoyance, but no way in hell is he a cold-blooded murderer.”

“Is that so? Sorry, but I would rather determine that myself. Colby, I’m sure you can show mister Winchester a way out?” the man turns to leave the room. Oh no, that’s not gonna happen!

“No need  for that, Colby,” he winks at the guy and smiles, “I have every right to be here, “ he shows his badge as he continues explaining, “why don’t you ask around a little from your bosses, huh? Cause as far as I can remember, I still have the power to intercept any investigation. You know what, I’m sure they’ll contact you soon enough, I did let people know where I was headed.” He broadens his smile and hopes the call will come soon. Otherwise he won’t have any legal means to convince this Don-guy. And it would be bad impression if Sam were to just leave.

“Mister hot-shot, huh? Seems like your badge real, but it only says agent, no high ranks or anything.”

“Yeah, well, that was my choice. Don’t want to scare people off with all those S-s, am I right?” He’s flipping his phone, hiding his nervousness. What the hell has that kid gotten himself into?

“You know what, I’m gonna go and talk with your brother until that infamous call happens.”

Dean lifts up his arms, mocking to give up: “Go ahead, but don’t forget to thread lightly!” he calls after him. Shit. Why were they taking so long, didn’t Charlie get the message?

“Agent Winchester, I’ll show you to the waiting room,” the man gestures him towards a door.

“I’m not leaving my brother, I’ll just stay here and watch. Where’s the speaker button, aah, there it is,” he turns it on so he could hear what Sam is talking. “Care to join me, agent Granger, was it? Colby?” he lifts his eyebrows, “oh, and I’m not agent Winchester, that just sounds wrong in all the levels, Dean is the name,” he offers his hand and Colby decides to shake it. With hesitation, but it’s a clear progress.

“So, you’ve been working here long?” he sits himself on the armchair in the corner, whoever left it here.

“A few years,” Colby is determined to look through the glass-wall, instead of at Dean. He looks good, kinda stiff, but all the more interesting. It makes Dean grin a little. Ex-military maybe.

Sam is talking about meeting Meg Masters. What the fuck does she have to do with this? Not like seeing Sam isn’t enough of a challenge, but thinking of her makes him shudder. Why are they even targeting Sam? Should’ve asked Charlie to hack in to the local database. Damnit, didn’t even think it would be something so serious. Guess it had to be for Sam to pick up the bloody phone.

Oh, it seems Meg is dead. That’s unexpected, she seemed as a type to outlive anyone and anything. So they have a legitimate reason to suspect Sam.

A phone rings somewhere nearby. Oh, it’s on the wall. Colby answers it, giving Dean some thoughtful looks now and again. Ha knocks on the glass wall and Eppes comes back. Huh, I guess it’s finally the call. Why the fuck didn’t they phone sooner, like two hours ago when he started driving?

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. Can I have some conformation documents? All right, good, I will,” Don’s gaze lands on him and Dean blows him a kiss. A mock kiss, not an actual one, not his type. Don rolls his eyes and looks away. “And she will come here in person as well?” Who’s coming? Charlie? That would be awesome, he hasn’t seen her without a computer screen between them for almost six months now. “Yes, thank you sir. Of course,” he looks at Dean again and offers the phone.

He gets himself up and answers: “Speaking,” he let’s his smile be heard from the other end of the line.

“Winchester,” damn Victor Henriksen, never learned to call him by his first name, “need I remind you that we are not paying you to handle personal matters.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I hear you, what do you want me to do? And it’s not as if I’m doing anything illegal here, right?”

“You are not. Just, try to wrap it up as soon as possible. I’m sending Bradbury to help you out,” yes to that, “and next time, call me right away instead of using mediators?”

“That sounds almost kind, you know that?” leave it to the president’s head of security to pull up some soft tone. Victor laughs a little: “Yes, well, we do want you to clear this mess up. Good luck and say hi to Sam from me.”

“Will do. Thanks. The papers will come in, right?” he asks just in case. A mere phone call wouldn’t necessarily convince Don Eppes.

“Yes, don’t worry. And don’t break any laws!”

“You just gotta ruin all the fun, huh? Ookay, I shall do my best as you command.”

“Yes, goodbye.”

“Have a nice day,” he replies and ends the call.

“So, where were we? Right, my brother. How about you’ll let me see him now and talk to him?”

Eppes is narrowing his eyes at him, he looks at Colby and answers: “Personal connections don’t do any good for our investigation, I’m sure you can understand that.”

He’s not wrong, but he hasn’t seen Sam for two years, so he’s not gonna delay it now.

“I tell you what, you let me in that room with him and I won’t take over your investigation completely, you’ll still call most of the shots, how about that for a compromise?” he asks seriously, without any smiles this time.

“You don’t even want to be around this case.”

“Maybe. Don’t know until I’m filled in. So far it looks promising though.”

“You can’t ask him anything. Better yet, don’t talk to him at all. All you can do is stay in the same room.” Don is pointing a thumb at him. Dean nods. It’s better than nothing at all and besides, Sam is innocent. There is no way in hell he would not prove that.

“I can do that, thanks,” he says. Eppes seems a little taken aback about that. Can’t blame the guy, he hasn’t been very polite so far.

“Ok,” Don opens the door.

Sam lifts his head up. Jesus, those bangs really do need some scissors.

“Heya, Sammy,” he whispers before sliding next to him on the other side of the desk. He leans on the wall and looks at Sam. He looks good, healthy enough, Sam’s eyes travel with him until Dean gives a quick nod. Sam turns himself back to the agents. Dean notices the photos. There’s one of Megs’ face, one that looks awfully lot like Bela’s and a third one of various magical markings. Figures. Sam should’ve let his data be sealed. That way they would’ve known right away when someone was snooping around. Or maybe Sam did know, just didn’t make the phone call.

“So, your mother died of a house fire and your father was basically absent, am I right?”

That’s exactly why Dean freaking hates all the cops and agents and whatever the hell they are. Don is returning to this subject just to spite him.

“Couldn’t be the best circumstances for a child. Is that why you turned to myths and the occult?” Don might have something there. Dean wants to snort-laugh, but he knows he shouldn’t. Sam does.

“Might be. Last time I checked it wasn’t against the law.”

“See, our consultant connects the magical markings here,” Eppes points to the photo of the hallway, “to the way these girls died.”

Shit. Dean feels cold and he fists his hands until they hurt. So, it is this kind of case. How is he supposed to keep it under radar? Sam also flinches at the words.

“I’m sorry,” he answers, “I don’t even know how they died. It’s …” Don’t say interesting, don’t say interesting, don’t say interesting, Dean conjures in his head.

“Unfortunate.” Thank god for little blessings. “I didn’t do any of this, I’m sorry you have the wrong guy.” Is he doing the puppy eyes? That kid. Doesn’t seem to work on Don, so far. The lady looks compassionate enough though. Pretty.

“Right, of course you are. You keep in touch with your brother?” What the fuck? Dean sends a hopefully murderous glance at Don, who doesn’t look his way.

“Not all the time, no,” All the time? Try almost never!

“I see. Can you tell me why?”

Sam is quiet until finally he says: “I guess, in a way, we want different things from life. No, actually, that’s not true, it’s just complicated. Family, you see,” he ends with an apologetic smile.

“All right. I think we’re finished here. Remember to not leave the city or we will arrest you.”

“Yes, I understand. So, I can leave now?” Sam looks around, fidgeting nervously with his fingers.

“Yeah, alright,” Don nods, his eyes catching Dean’s. Guess he’s trying to be more careful than Dean anticipated. That’s good, that’s good.

Sam rises and shakes everyone’s hands. Of course he does. Dean straightens himself. “See you around,” he addresses to Don and shoves Sam out of the door. He smiles at Colby and they leave the building in silence.

“Dean, that was Meg! Meg!” Sam panics the moment they’re outside.

“I know. And Bela.”

“Fuck, this is bad, Dean. You think it’s something supernatural?”

Dean thinks of the markings. “Yeah, almost definitely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's say it takes place during Obama's administration, ok.. (or you know, in a world where it's not all so f-ed up)


	4. Marking in the Left Corner (Nikki)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, new subscribers...i see you (no i don't), i love you (yes i do).
> 
> btw, i made Sam and Dean a bit older than a previous chapter revealed. so Sam is 31 and Dean 35, just so you'd know.

 

Nikki turns herself to Don: “Why’d you let them leave so easily? What am I missing?”

“Orders from higher places basically, seems like the older one is someone, I don’t know, important? FBI in any way. Looks like we’re gonna have to work with him on this one.”

That’s a load of shit. “That’s a load of messed up,” she says, “he’s brother is involved in this, what are they thinking?” she stands and stretches her whole body. It’s been a long day.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I don’t know what could be so important to forget that personal connections always ruin an investigation.”

Nikki snorts at that. Don sends her a death glare, like she’s supposed to be afraid of it. Well, sometimes she is, but not today. It is clear the boss likes this development as much as she does. “And you’re just gonna let it happen?” she raises an eyebrow.

“What? No,” Don stumbles over words, “we work with top secret stuff all the time, those guys are nothing different. Just, weird is all,” he shrugs his shoulders and frowns. Sometimes Nikki wonders what his face would look like if he didn’t do that. Unnerving, probably.

“You know what, I’m gonna go give Robin a call. See, if she can dig something up about this Dean Winchester.” He flips his phone and starts dialling. Nikki hesitates for a moment before leaving the room.

Colby’s sitting on a table, looking at the photos from the crime-scene.

“Hey, so what’s this all about?” she leans next to him, peeking over his shoulder. Nothing she didn’t already see.

“What, the interruption?” Colby lifts his eyes and looks briefly towards Don, who is now pacing around the room, “you could call it higher power.”

“How high?” she pokes at him until the guy smiles and looks at her. “High as in the president.”

“What, FBI? That shouldn’t be a problem, I mean,”

Colby cuts her in: “Nope, the USA.”

What? She whistles. “No wonder Don went easy on him. Still seems like something’s off. I hate politics.”

“No, you don’t,” the bastard smirks openly, “you just hate paper-work.”

“I swear, if that’s a lead-up to me having to do some,” she threatens. Of course, it’s an empty threat, but she needs to stay in her character, right?

“Since you brought it up, I wasn’t going to.”

Damn him, he just begs her to be vindictive, doesn’t he? “All right,” she hops of the table, “hey, you heard from David?”

Colby looks straight through her, eyes turning darker: “No, you heard from Edgerton?”

“Ok-ok, I’ll shut up now,” she moves to get to her desk, when Don reappears.

He looks even more like a cloud of thunder. “So, Robin didn’t have anything to say right now, but she promised to look into it. We’re still investigating him, just stay low, don’t want anyone to end up in trouble. Fucking politics.”

Nikki and Colby share a look. “I think I saw a detail we missed, don’t know if Larry caught or not,” Colby is standing up and pointing at a photo.

“Yeah? What am I looking at?” Don shifts closer.

“This left corner marking, doesn’t it look more like a handprint than a drawing? Right here, in the middle of this ring-thingy? Look, I’ll put it on the wall,” he moves fast to project the image and largens it to the corner, “I might be wrong and I know we already got all the fingerprints they managed to find, but why would there be something like this?”

“Why would anyone paint religious marks on the walls?” Nikki mutters to herself. There are various crosses and pentagrams-hexagrams-triangles and who the hell knows what else. “Maybe the hand is some sort of symbol itself? Could be.”

“Yeah,” Don has moved right to the wall, “I mean we can’t compare it to anything, but maybe Autobahn and Larry can figure something out. And you said Larry was consulting someone without clearance? Missouri Moseley, she gave any references?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if we should continue consulting with her, she works with Sam Winchester.”

“Can’t we have any clues without his name popping up… You know what, maybe it’s good, we can still keep an eye on him. You haven’t really discussed the case with her, right?” it’s more like a statement than a question.

“No, of course not. And Larry’s been even more cryptic than his usual self.”

“Good, good. If you can, you should try to talk to the guy while you’re there, Nikki. I’m gonna leave this to you. First thing in the morning. We’ll use only this certain part of the image.”

Cool. Like she’s the most diplomatic person in the team. And a morning person.

“I’ll go talk to the doc again, Colby, take the lead on the last potential witness, Ronald Reznik, was it?”

“Yeah, do you want Liz to be there?”

“Yeah, she should be here tomorrow.”

“So,” Nikki starts, “what do we think of this brother? He played it cool, didn’t he?”

“Right, fuck, he’s gonna be here tomorrow, isn’t he,” it really seems as if Don had forgotten, “and I should get the conformation he’s legit. The guy sure knows how to act. Like, this case is already messed up. All right, I’ll stay with him tomorrow and then we’ll go from there. Damn it,” his hands are moving through his hair. Nikki would feel sorry for the boss, if she wasn’t as tired as well.

“You wanna call it a night?” Colby asks. Yay for Colb! _She_ wants to call it a night.

“Yeah, it’s not like we can do much right now. First thing in the morning,” he looks at Nikki.

“Sure thing, boss,” she nods and hopefully doesn’t look like she just wants to get out of here already. It’s a great job, it is. When there is something to do.

“You guys go, I’ll finish up the paper-trail for today,” Colby offers. God, that man is an angel tonight. Or more like a workaholic, who doesn’t appear to have any personal life. She tousles his hair on the way to get her bag.

See ya, guys,” she raises her hand before slipping out of the door. She doesn’t wait for Don to follow her, she just can’t wait to get out. Don is right, it’s a messed-up case already and they’re not even sure _how_ the victims actually died. It’s like they were forced to not exist anymore. Sam Winchester is probably their guy, too many connections and coincidences to be innocent. Despite his masterful puppy eyes. He knew what the symbols meant, he knew at least one of the victims, he’s been in town for the murders. And his brother is a high-rank fed or something. Still, something doesn’t add up. He didn’t seem to know why they brought him in for questioning, but his eyes had been following her and Larry when they were talking to Moseley. Highly observant.

She shakes her head, it doesn’t do any good to continue thinking about it. Ideas always came suddenly. She gets in her car and fishes out the phone. No new messages, nothing. She thinks for a brief second about calling her brother, but then just tosses the phone on the seat next to her, turning the radio on.

_“…You will find_

_Your own space and time”_

She shrugs and turns the volume up. Hey, the Winchesters are from Texas, right? No, that was Kansas, right? Like Dorothy. She sings along the rest of the way home.

_“You call me superstitious_

_Tie me up with your deceit_

_I could never be malicious_

_Though I seem so bittersweet_

_You should know_

_You're falling into fiction_

_I can tell_

_You're on some foolish mission_

_You're black eyed soul_

_You should know_

_That there's nowhere else to go_

_My black eyed boy_

_You will find_

_Your own space and time…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, maybe you noticed that i've deleted the Sam/Eileen tag. now, the reason for that is that i kinda started to like the idea of Sam/Nikki while writing this chapter. i don't know if i'm gonna go there or not, but i decided to leave it open for now. if anyone has a clear preference, you should tell me NOW. ( i love eileen as well, but i'd have to find a clever way to bring her into the story and right this instant i don't have it)
> 
> sry if it's kind of a filler chapter! :)


	5. Ronald Reznik (Colby)

 

He’s adjusting the things on his table and waiting for Liz. He had a rather sleepless night and Colby doesn’t really want to think about why. He didn’t have nightmares and he didn’t have arguments that would keep him away from sleep with anyone. Also, everything he said yesterday was said because of work. That’s exactly why, a small voice in his head is saying, but this is not a place to give in to it.

“Heya, you look like you’re living in your head at the moment?” Liz approaches him, “work or personal?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“No, I wouldn’t actually, but you know, being in the know is good for the team, right? We can always bond and be buddies and,” she pushes him in the side as Colby smiles a little. He likes Liz. “Yeah? You can save that when we’ve done some good deed and have dinner at Charlie’s.”

“That bad, huh?” Liz is thoughtful for a second, before they both turn to leave. “So, what did I miss yesterday? Got a cryptic voicemail from Don, seems like something’s brewing.”

They take Colby’s car and Liz finds directions on her phone while Colby fills her in on the whole Winchesters’ business. Liz lets out a low whistle: “So, that’s something. You think the guy is guilty?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, usually he doesn’t like to think whether suspects are guilty or not, they are suspects, personal opinions don’t play a role in the mountain of evidence. “I don’t,” he finds himself saying. Liz throws a sharp look at him, but he doesn’t return it, just shrugs.

“Must be something weird going on for you to say that. Damn, I wish I’d been there. So, the other one, Dean, you think he’s legit?”

“Yeah, yeah I do and so does Don. We’ll get conformation today, plus someone’s supposed to accompany him. I mean, I think his connections are legit, but do I think he’s an agent? No idea. He’s definitely a flirt though,” he adds.

“Oh yeah, did he put his moves on you?” Liz was too excited about this.

“Why don’t you take a look at Ronald Reznik’s file instead?” Colby changes the subject. He knows he gave her an answer with that anyway, but at least they can concentrate on work now. Liz isn’t usually this curious, but it’s like a virus. He doesn’t know who started it, but after David left, suddenly his personal life became the most important subject in the group.

“Okay,” Liz opens her tablet. She hasn’t used actual paper files for who knows how long. Another long whistle: “This case just gets creepier by the minute, doesn’t it? This guy’s psychological state is not normal,” Liz is always careful with her words, he hasn’t asked her why.

“Yes, I noticed. It’s like he’s into every conspiracy theory out there. And he’s not silent about it.”

“Uh-huh, not a trustworthy witness.”

They’re at the house and Colby stops the car. It looks like a normal place. The door creaks open before either of them could knock on it.

“What do you want?” the guy is big, his curly hair covering the eyes.

“FBI, special agent,” he can’t finish the sentence before Reznik zooms in on the badge and drags them both inside.

“You didn’t see anyone else lurking around, did you?” he’s carefully checking their credentials, “you can never know whose eyes are on you. Come on, I’ll show you something.” They’re leaded to another room, this one clearly the lair of all things insane. There are papers and pictures on the walls, most of them about aliens. A copy of a photo catches Colbys’ eye and he gestures Liz to look at it. It’s a picture of a woman similar to the first victim. She had short black hair and a different eye colour, but they could’ve been sisters. “Who’s this, mister Reznik?”

“Oh, that’s the jewel-thief, Lugosi they called her. She was killed by the laser-eyes-guy, just a minor player.”

So, Reznik didn’t recognize her. Might be just a coincidence.

“She’s dead?” Liz asks while taking the picture off the wall.

“Yeah, shredded to pieces back in Pennsylvania, six years ago that was. I guess there’s some poetry there.”

“Poetry?”  
“Yeah, y’know, Pennsylvania-Transilvania sounds similar, right? And Lugosi came from Bela Lugosi.”

“The Dracula actor?” Liz is suddenly interested.

“The same.”

Bela. Another coincidence? Their victim’s name is also Bela. Bela Talbot. He checks other photos in the room., nothing else catches eye.

“So, mister Reznik, you worked as a night guard at Fisherman’s Hall on the night of the 15th? Can you tell us what you saw?”

“That’s the weird part, isn’t it? I didn’t see anything. One minute I look at the cameras and that girl is at the hallway. I’m getting up to tell her she can’t enter at night time and when I get there, there she lies, eyes empty, walls covered in symbols and no one else around. There’s nothing on the cameras either.”

“Yes, we have seen those. You didn’t hear anything?”

Reznik slumps into his thoughts: “I don’t, you know, this is gonna sound crazy, but maybe some whoosh! sound? Like a silent train, this flow of air, but no, I didn’t hear her talking or anything. Like I said, one moment she just tries to get in and the other, dead!”

“Did you see her before? Did you know her?”

“Not by name, no. I had seen her once or twice. She must’ve known the building was closed for the night. She didn’t even go for the door, seemed as if she was more interested in the walls. Maybe she saw the symbols, but they were invisible at the time?”

“Maybe. Did you ever talk to her?”

Reznik shakes his head: “No. She was the arrogant type, didn’t even look at me. Sorry I’m not much of a help. If you want theories, I could give you some?” the guy tries to be helpful. Liz smiles at him: “No, it’s better if we only look at the evidence.”

“Really? That’s not what the other guy said.”

“What other guy? Mister Reznik?”

“Oh, agent Clarence. Trench coat, stony-faced? Impatient, but interested.”

Colby shares a look with Liz. It was either someone pretending to be a federal agent or it was someone connected to Dean Winchester.

“When did this agent Clarence talk to you?”

“Oh, last night, it was very late, but he said it’s an important case. It wasn’t an agent, was it? Do you think he placed here some listening device?”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s all right, mister Reznik. I’ll make a phone call, agent Warner will keep you company,” he nods at Liz and steps outside. Reznik might be right about the listening device.

Don picks up after third call. _“Colby, what do you got for me?”_

“Hey, Don, is Dean Winchester with you now?”

_“Yeah, he’s legit, just got the papers.”_

“Listen, I’m at Reznik’s house and he says there was an agent talking to him yesterday, agent Clarence. He wasn’t one of Winchester’s by any chance?”

He hears Don calling out for Winchester and some mumbling and then there’s a click and he’s on the speaker.

 _“Yeah, I haven’t sent anyone to talk to your witnesses,”_ Dean says, _“you said he called himself Clarence? I don’t know that name, you?”_  Don is confirming not knowing it.

_“You got a description?”_

“Trench coat and how was it, stony-faced.

_“Negative, don’t sound familiar.”_

“Ok, so I’m gonna tell him he needs to come and give a description for the artist or..?”

 _“If he’s willing, bring him right away_.”

“Copy that, see you soon,” he hangs up and returns to the house.

Reznik is more than willing to come with them. Liz tries to make him talk about the fake agent, but he’s lost in his own made-up tales, one being more ridiculous than the other. They took the picture of Bela with as well.

 

They are greeted with a broad smile of Dean Winchester, Don already waiting in the interview room with the artist, Josie Sands.

“Colby, nice to see you again,” Dean’s smile doesn’t fade, when he turns to Liz, “and you must be agent Warner, lovely to meet you as well,” his eyes are travelling on her and he almost winks, “must be my lucky day. Dean Winchester, but y’all can call me Dean,” he offers his hands to her and Liz gives him a little nod while shaking it. “You guys aren’t big on smiling, are you?”

“Only if we want to,” Liz quirks her lips a little.

“Right, and mister Reznik? Ronald was it, can I call you Ron?”

“Yes, yes, Dean,” Reznik shakes his hand fiercely, covering it with the other hand. Dean barks a little laugh at that.

“Come, Ron, tell us all about this Clarence-guy trying to act like an agent.”

They join Don and Josie and Reznik talks animatedly how the man looked like.

“So, he wanted to know your theories?” Dean asks at one point.

“Yes, but he didn’t agree. Kept muttering about how it’s all out of order and not right. Creeped me out a little.”

“Hey, do you need a lift home?” Dean offers him once Don says Reznik is free to go.

“Oh, oh, no need. I always use the public transport, always someone to investigate.”

“All right. This is my personal number,” Dean hands him a piece of paper, “if you should remember anything at all about this guy or the victim or, khm, this Bela girl, don’t hesitate to call me. No matter how crazy it is.”

“Thank you. Am I safe at home?”

“We’ll send someone to check if you’re bugged, I’ll give you a call beforehand. Sure it’s all well,” Don says.

“Thanks, yeah,” he shoves Dean’s phone number in his back pocket and waves goodbye.

“Damn, wasn’t he just downright ...” Don doesn’t get to finish his thought. Both Liz and Dean look at him sharply and ask: “What?” pretty much at the same time.

Colby hides his smile. It’s going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why clarence, you might ask? i don't know, could've been any other alias, but i guess i was thinking about meg while writing it. still...now i'm wondering why clarence, must be important for some reason...we'll see! ;)


	6. Private Conversation (Don)

 

The morning didn’t go as planned, impersonators showing up and delays in the work due to that. Still no closer to the murderer, unless of course it is Sam Winchester. Still a pretty good possibility, the one that Larry had come up with after all. Don observes Dean closely. The guy seems to be a living contradiction, one moment he’s all smiles and flirtation, the other serious as a true investigator. And way too fucking open-minded, didn’t even blink at the alien theories of Ronald Reznik.

“Hey, Eppes, you know somewhere to grab a bite? As soon as we’re done here I mean,” a polite smile. Like he knows his every movement.

“Yeah, sure, there’s a place nearby,” they’re at the doctor’s office, not the usual coroner, but some specialist, “hey, what did you do to get to the position you’re in?” Don muses almost to himself, but Winchester answers anyway.

“What? That I can come and do as I please? Saved the president from Lucifer, no biggie,” he says while reading the registration information on the wall.

“Could’ve just said it was classified, you know.”

He shrugs his shoulders: “Could’ve just not asked.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult. Still, Don is glad when doctor Rowena MacLeod finally appears.

“Oh, dearies, I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” she smiles and eyes them both, her voice thick of Scottish accent.

“Well, no problem, we’re the ones wasting your time, doctor MacLeod. The name’s Dean Winchester,” Dean shows a rather modest smile.

“Yeah, agent Don Eppes,” Don flashes his badge instead of a smile.

The redheaded doctor nods at him, but still focuses her attention on Dean instead: “Please, Rowena. You boys can always call me Rowena, feels more like family, aye? Step inside, feel yourselves at home,” she waves them to her cabinet and follows, her heels clacking on the floor. She slips through them, hands lingering on their shoulders and leans against her desk.

“We were hoping you could tell us more about the cause of death, doctor MacLeod,” Don goes right to business.

“Oh, where’s the fun? Told ya, Rowena,” she winks.

Dean coughs and suddenly flashes a flirtatious grin: “Rowena, what my friend Don here is trying to say is that we would absolutely value your input regarding this very difficult case. We were informed you are the best in the field and honestly, we would be lost without your opinion.” Flattery? It’s not like they’re dealing with a suspect here, she has already promised to help them, this guy is going to take Don to early grave.

“Oh, why thank you, what a nice thing to say. I’m really not that big of a deal,” she says, twinkle in her eyes telling something very different. “All right,” she turns her permanent smile off and grabs the file from her table, “your coroner did send me your files. What a meticulous boy he is … where was I, yes, unidentified original cause of death of miss Meg Masters and one miss Bela Talbot,” her fingers are moving on the crime scene photo, Dean moves behind her shoulder to take a closer look, “doctor Tran has noted their organs were frozen? No, they had been melted and then frozen? Before the bodies were found?”

“Yes, on both cases. He wasn’t able to verify what had caused it.”

“No, it is fascinating, right? I would need to take a closer look at the samples, haven’t had a chance yet, you see, but these symbols,” her nails drag on the photos and suddenly she looks up, “were there any on their bodies, I wonder,” she starts flipping through all the pages and photos, “and their skin was intact? No  cuts? Their eyes are not burnt out...”

“There’s a little ring on the nape of their necks,” Dean sighs and doctor MacLeod makes eye contact with him. How does he even know something like that, he just got here yesterday?

“Now I see it, yes, yes, it would serve as a freezer…” she seems to be lost in her own thoughts. Don tries to catch Dean’s eye, but he is also deep in thought.

“Sorry, how can a mark like that kill someone?”

“Oh no, that’s not what killed them, that’s what prevented their bodies turning into ash. It’s more like why would someone want to preserve them, unless they made these themselves.”

“You think they knew about the danger?”

“Yes, well, they did know their symbols. Even I don’t know them all, don’t exactly need them, Dean.”

Again, it seems as if the two are having a silent conversation, Dean’s hand has moved to where his gun should be. “Oh, you don’t, huh?”

“No need to get twitchy, we both know it wasn’t me,” she pats Dean’s shoulder.

“Don’t mean to interrupt you,” Don interrupts their communication, “but what are we dealing here with,” his patience is running out and the case needs to be solved.

“Well, there is, how shall I put this, a certain substance that won’t allow your body to burn, even if it’s lit from inside.”

“Inside? Like spontaneous combustion? Isn’t that just some fictional thing?” he asks. As far as he knows there’s never been a proven case on something like that.

The doctor and Winchester share another quite meaningful look. “Is there something I should know about?” Don directs his question at Dean, who drops his eyes, but doesn’t elaborate.

“There are ways, should I say, to make a person burn inside out, certain drugs mixed together can achieve that. Now, usually it don’t really end in flames, but there are unresolved cases. The human race does tend to find magnificent ways to kill ourselves.”

“Uh-huh,” Don doesn’t know what to believe. This all sounds too much like a hocus-pocus, still, so does physics. Nothing about this case has been conventional _and_ it seems Winchester is unfazed about all of this. “Is there a list? Of these drugs? Could help us find the killer.”

“Certainly, just give me a minute and I’ll get you a rough draft.”

“Anything else you want to tell us?” Dean is asking her.

“Oh, nothing that could help you right now. Fingers itching, aye? I haven’t done nothing wrong.” She shuts Dean down and starts writing down the list.

“What about that whole freezing thing?” Don asks her while they wait.

Her pen makes a quick jump as she looks up: “Oh, that, I’d have to do some research on that, I’m afraid,” she glances momentarily at Dean, who nods briefly.

This whole conversation seems like two suspects trying to hide something from the third party. He’d have to confront Dean about it later.

“There you have,” the list is shoved in to his hands, “I’ll send you an official one later today.”

Dean hands her his card: “Don’t forget to call as soon as you come up with something new, regarding the freezing substances.”

The lady snaps the card from his fingers: “Wouldn’t dream of disobeying,” she places it in her breast pocket, “now shoo! I shall need my privacy.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” Dean nods as he steps out the door.

“Thank you for your time, doctor MacLeod.” Even if she was evasive, she was also useful.

 

As soon as they’re out the door Don turns to his temporary co-worker: “What the fuck was that? Are you trying to derail this investigation by keeping me in the dark?”

Dean rubs his face and glances at him: “Need to know basis,” he mutters, still walking towards the exit.

“Hey, I need to be able to do my work,” he throws in before Dean cuts him off.

“Listen, man, you seem to be a nice guy and competent and all that stuff, but I still can’t tell you everything.” For the first time, he sincerely seems to be conflicted about this. “I tell you what, as soon as there’s something you absolutely _need_ , and I mean really need to know, I won’t keep you in the dark, okay?” he’s almost pleading and seems extremely tired for a second. “Also, you had my brother as a suspect, don’t think I’ll forget about that. So, I don’t have to tell you anything,” he rubs his neck and continues, “meanwhile, we have a list to see if someone’s been buying some of that stuff.”

“You think someone did?”

“Well, that or it’s something out of fiction. Science fiction? Horror stories? I never know the exact genres. Fantasy?”

“Maybe it’s laser eyes from Reznik’s imagination.”

“Huh,” Dean doesn’t give a smile at that, “maybe.” It’s almost as if he seriously contemplates about that. “Can I see the bodies? They haven’t been returned to the families, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you can. Not that there’s anything else to add to the files.”

Dean frowns: “You’re probably right. Never hurts to try though, right. Hey, you mind if I make a quick call, it’ll be just a second?”

“Don’t take long,” Don nods and observes as Dean walks away from him. “Sammy, hey,” he hears before he’s out of the earshot.

He sure hopes he doesn’t discuss the case with his brother, still the number one suspect in Don’s eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can always suggest whose PoV i should use next!  
> i hope you like my Rowena ;)


	7. In Need of Distraction (Sam)

 

“Hello?” Sam whispers to his phone as he moves quietly towards the door. The FBI lady is still eyeing him as if there was _Serial Killer_ written on his forehead. Why are they even keeping their little discussions in the library of all places?

_“Sammy, hey! Listen, I ain’t got much time, but there’s something you could look into.”_

“Dean! Are you even allowed to talk to me?” he finds himself in the janitor’s room. Strange it wasn’t locked.

_“Hey, I can do whatever I want, perks of being loved by the government.”_

“Just…don’t blow your cover or whatever, okay, man?”

_“I don’t have a cover, but yeah, I get what you mean. I have a name for you, Rowena MacLeod?”_

“She a suspect or what?”

_“A doctor. And also a witch, so I can’t really do this by the books.”_

“Oh. Yeah, okay, I can do that. I just wish my every move wasn’t watched while I do it.”  
_“Yeah, can’t really do anything about that, you know they need to…”_ Dean starts rambling in an apologetic way as if this whole situation was his fault.

“Listen,” Sam interrupts him, “I get that, I do, Rowena MacLeod was it? With or without the A?”

_“With. Thanks. And Sam?”_

“Yeah?”

_“We’ll sort this out, promise.”_

“I know. I’ll see you at night?”

 _“Okay, bye,”_ Dean disconnects.

I know. Why does he always say he knows when he never really does.

Rowena MacLeod it is then. Could it be that Meg and Bela were involved with the witches? It wouldn’t be unheard of. More importantly, how the hell was Bela still alive to be killed again? She wasn’t salted and burnt, might actually be her body. Damn it, if they were to discover his connection to Bela as well, there was nothing they could do. Except becoming a fugitive. He rests the back of his head on the wall for a moment and squeezes his eyes shut. Right, they’ll find a way, he can’t start running again, he doesn’t want to. Right. Information on the doctor.

He backtrails out of the room, it’s not like he could do research here and walks right into someone.

“I’m so sorry, my mind must be somewhere else,” he apologizes, pockets the phone and squats to collect the sketches he’d knocked over.

“Oh, no worries,” an older man with grey hair and a blue button-down says as he joins him, “should’ve probably been more careful myself, but you know, hard to see if you got a whole stack of paper-rolls to carry.” He smiles, voice warm and a little scratchy.

“Can I help you take these somewhere?” Sam asks when he’s gathered all the papers, some in rolls, some just flying around loosely, they all seem to be some schemes and drawings, physics or engineering.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” the man holds one of the rolls and moves towards one of the larger tables under the window, “I’ll just clear the path and see no one’s gonna stumble upon you,” he gestures and lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry again,” Sam mumbles.

“Naah, no harm done, right? You alright though?” he looks up at Sam quizzically and tilts his head, “never good to be too lost in your thoughts.”

Sam smiles as he covers the table with various papers: “Yeah, just last few days have been kinda complicated, but thank you, for asking,” he nods and taps the table.

“Good, good,” the man still observes him.

“Right, I should leave you to your work,” Sam starts to walk away, when the man opens his mouth again.

“Hey, you work here!” it’s more of a statement than a question. He’s pointing at the employee card Sam’s pocket, “what is it, Sam Winchester?” he reads from the name card, “well it was a pleasure to meet you, Sam, I’m Alan,” he offers his hand and Sam shakes it. “Yes, nice to meet you,” he can’t hide a smile that keeps creeping up on him. He’s missed talking to people who doesn’t know him and Alan seems like a great guy. “You teach a course on engineering? I couldn’t help but notice the schematics,” Sam takes a chance at continuing the conversation.

“Me? Ha!” Alan lets out a bark of laughter, then looks around to not disturb anyone, “oh, heavens no, studying more like. My son’s the one who does the teaching. He’s crap at it, but, ah, he’s in Cambridge right now. I have done a few projects though, but no teaching,” his eyes have gone shiny from the laughter and he dries them, shaking his head. “I am the prime example of lifelong learning.”

“That’s pretty amazing, but I was right about the engineering part?” Sam is careful with his words.

“Yeah. Hey, I could teach you this and that?” Alan claps his arm.

“Tempting, but I’ll stick to my own work for now. Which I should probably get back to.”

“Probably. I’ll see you around, Sam.”

“Sure thing, if you need anything, I’ll be in the next hall.” He and nods returns to his workplace, with a better mood and with more energy.

Luckily, Missouri and company have left. To the archives, surely. Which means he’s free to do some research on Rowena MacLeod during his free moments. He’s busy though and soon enough, two hours have passed with him only managed to put the name to Google search (on his own Ash-proofed laptop of course) and see the image of the lady. Red hair, short, pretty, highly spoken of in her field of expertise. He’d have to search for her from the name register of all recorded witches. He checks if he can do that without going to the archives. No such luck. There’s one storybook though, that seems to have at least a few historical names in it. It’s worth a shot, though an old witch wouldn’t let something like her name still be so easily accessible. Unless they were very full of themselves.

He snaps the computer closed and, as everything’s quiet, gets up and goes to search for it, when he sees the trio emerging from downstairs. Missouri, doctor Fleinhardt and agent Betancourt. Have they been there all this time? Probably doing research on the sigils at the crime scene. He should let them know it’s practically a waste of time. He should also call Bobby about it, he’d know. Or Dean should at least, maybe he has. But then again, Missouri is very knowledgeable and who knows what Fleinhardt could put on the table…

“Sam Winchester,” the agent addresses him, “I gotta say our conversation yesterday was cut short.”

Antagonizing, really? Didn’t they get already, it won’t make him spill his guts? “Agent,” he gives a small smile, “do what do I owe the pleasure again?”

“We’ll see, sure there’s something we could always discuss, but hey, big brother comes into town and you’re all clean again. What’s all that about anyway?”

Wow. She’s right, he knows she is, but she doesn’t have to be so rude about it.

“Well, clearly you weren’t doing your job right and that’s all there was,” he’s aiming for something hurtful.

“See, and you want to convince you’re not the bad guy by acting like this? Unbelievable,” her eyes are burning fire, perhaps he did go too far.

“Unless you’ve got any sort of real evidence against me, I suggest you _not_ to act so antagonizing.”

“What? You’re gonna sue me? Yeah, my gut says your dear brother wouldn’t want any kind of publicity. And neither would you,” she steps closer and gives him a pointed look.

“Now, let’s just all have a nice moment of calm and see how we are all part of the same pattern, the pattern that some people might see as the pattern of nature and some might see it as the pattern of life. Of course, it is all of that and even more, the pattern of universe itself and we are all part of it. No matter who we are or what we say. So why is it we would have to be so against each other..?” doctor Fleinhardt is emerged in his own thoughts, “of course perhaps that does have a meaning.” It’s as if he’d started to get people to calm down, but at some point something else occupied his mind.

“Right,” Sam interrupts him, “no offence, but right now my pattern is not to get arrested for crimes I didn’t commit,” he addresses the last words at agent Betancourt.

“Now,” Missouri’s lazy deep voice takes over, “Larry, I love you, but sometimes you don’t know how to behave and miss Betancourt, I hope you have _not_ come here to interrogate my employee. Which reminds me, Sam, shouldn’t you be at your desk and working?”

“Right, of course.” He moves away from them without another word. They surely wouldn’t care what he has to say. He’s mind is raging again, but this time he’ll have something to occupy it with and he clutches the book he managed to get before the interruption. 19th century, not bad. _Three Drops of Blood, a Kiss and the Flight. Nine Tales to Freeze Ya Heart. Brought to you by F.R.M._ Only author’s initials, no names.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not know Alan would pop up like this, i'm glad he did...
> 
> thanks for reading! this is gonna be looong :)


	8. News from behind the Veil (Dean)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this chapter took so long. but you'll be rewarded for your patience with some familiar faces ;)

 

Dean doesn’t feel good about lying, he never has, but it’s become so natural, that usually he doesn’t even notice when he does it, like a second nature. This time he’s surprised to recognize a little guilt intertwined with the lies. Don Eppes has been a bit too insightful for his liking. He glances a look at the man, all business and concrete, hell, maybe it was the flirting that rubbed him the wrong way. Naah, would do him some good. Dean smirks and gathers his full attention to the dead girl. He hadn’t known Bela for long, she was always in and out of their lives, more concerned about money than lives, but she did do them a solid once. Before she died the first time, that is. Was it only her body, that was brought back somehow and killed again? A shapeshifter, a ghoul? No, those bodies would’ve collapsed by now, the human bonestructure melting away after a few hours. Resurrection it is then. A witch? Meg? And what the hell had killed them again? The same thing that brought Bela back?

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the kid remarks. Course he hasn’t, the coroner Kevin Tran looks like he’s seventeen. When Dean made a remark about that, he received a deathglare and a venomous “try ten years older, we can’t all look like a fossil”. It was enough to shut him up and he did _not_ look like a fossil, damn kid himself looked like a damn fossil.

“Yeah, we already discussed with doctor MacLeod,” he says before Kevin could start talking about various injuries. “You have any ideas about what caused it? No matter how out of the box.”

There isn’t many visible injuries, both Bela and Meg look like they were still alive, a thin layer of ice covering them.

“No. The ice just returned after autopsy, the crystals crowing like they were some kind of fungi,” Kevin’s voice is full of amazement, “but the ice is not strong, easily breakable, even melting while I worked. Fascinating, sorry,” he adds catching how weird he might sound, “Rowena got you anything?” he changes the subject.

“Not concerning the ice,” Don cuts to the conversation.

“Huh. It’s like their organs burnt, starting to melt, but before they could burn inside out, they were preserved by the ice. I hope the chemicals list will get you somewhere, sure don’t want to see another body like this. No matter how fascinating it might be.”

“I’m confident we’ll find something on the killer,” Dean nods and means his words. “Were there any other irregularities? Before the assault I mean?”

“Oh. Well, not on miss Talbot, but the second victim had a stab wound possibly from before. It’s hard to determine the time because of the ice, but it looks more like a scar. He moves to Meg Masters. The blond feisty chick, who had tried to sacrifice Sam to some high level demon, Azazel. Dean had succeeded in throwing her to a psychiatric clinic before dad would’ve heard of the incident. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been as merciful. Yeah, the stab wound on the shoulder was from Sam’s knife. If that ever got out…no way to clean his name there, fugitive it would have to be.

“I see. That in her record?” he asks Don.

“Uh, yeah, she has a clean record. So clean it’s almost as if sealed.” His eyes are following every move Dean makes. “Like a lot of things around here.” And there it is, the reminder of Dean’s own shadiness, along with Sam’s.

“Well, we can’t all be happy soon-to-be-marrieds, now can we?” he replies and gives Kevin his card. “You come up with a theory, however crazy, give me a call.”

“What, you from the X-files unit or what?” Kevin scoffs, but nods and pockets the card. “Might get along nicely with the Constantine fellow.”

Dean whips his head back to Kevin. “Constantine? As in beige trenchcoat?”

“Uh, yeah? That is the look people usually go for.”

“Kevin, was someone here asking about the case?” Don turns his investigative tone on, “dressed in a beige trenchcoat? Dark hair, blue eyes?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly about the case, no, he was just in the building upstairs, where the guests can wait. I thought he was someone’s relative at first. Then he said he was a journalist, called himself Steve. Asked stories about peculiar deaths, had no idea who Constantine is. Why? He somehow involved in this?” his voice rose with the question, his eyes wide.

“Did you tell him anything?” is Don’s heated question. He changes a look with Dean.

“No! Who the hell you think I am, talking to journalists? The dude was weird, he sniffed me and mumbled something like _I see._ ”

“And he called himself Steve? Not an agent, not Clarence?” Dean asks.

“How the…that was the last name,” Kevin gestures happily as if he had just solved the case, “Steve Clarence. From the, what was it, _News from behind the Veil_.”

“I’m on it,” Dean says while browsing the title from his phone.

Don nods: “Kevin, did he look something like this?” he shows the picture Ronald Reznik had helped to draw from his phone.

“Yes, well, similar, I can never really tell from these,” Kevin grabs the phone and squints his eyes.

Dean finds the page for the journal. “Eppes, it’s real, the paper. Published paranormal stories, basically ghosts I think, oh! Hey,” he gestures to Don, who looks behind his shoulder. There’s a page with employers’ photos. Just six photos, the fourth one tagged as Steve Clarence. Fuck, those are some insanely blue eyes. “Was this the guy, Kevin?”

Kevin zooms in on the photo. “Oh, that’s him. Huh, I guess he really is a journalist.”

“Fuck. You got Reznik’s number?” Dean asks from Don, “for confirmation.”

“Yeah.”

It only takes a few seconds after they send the photo for Ronald to answer with _That’s him! That’s the guy!_

“Hey, guys, I’m all for you solving the case and all, but I need to get back to work.” Kevin interrupts them. There’s a woman by the door, signaling to him.  
“I know, I promised to give you a hand. I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Kevin turns apologetically back to them.

The woman rolls her eyes and opens her mouth: “I’m Eileen,” she signs along with the words and looks at Dean.

“Dean Winchester, nice to meet you,” they shake hands.

“I’m sorry I need to rob Kevin from you,” Eileen adds.

“That’s okay, we should get going anyway,” he’s careful to let his lips be visible.

“Doctor Eileen Leahy is a colleague,” Kevin blushes a little when he sees he forgot to do the introducing. “Agents Eppes and Winchester work for the FBI.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see you both,” Don throws and starts talking to his phone. Dean smiles, gives a little wave and rushes after him.

 

A few running steps and he’s caught up: “We going to the office of that newspaper?” he asks when he sees that Eppes has ended his phonecall.

“Yeah, don’t know if we’ll have enough to make an arrest for impersonating a federal agent, but it’s better to talk to this Clarence right away. You got somewhere else to be?”

“Nope. All for the case. Could be a suspect?”

“Well, so far the only solid lead we got.”

“Yeah, I mean, could be just a reporter searching for an angle, but sounds more like a stalker. I mean, if he had told Reznik about being a journalist he would’ve spilled the guts, no need to pretend to be an agent.” He knows he’s right, but something  still seems off. Probably just the gazillion missing pieces. And the guy might know about things that go bump in the night.

“I say we go in for the suspect.”

Oh, like you did with Sam? Dean feels a sudden urge to ask, but he doesn’t. They get to Don’s car and follow the directions given on the website. He could get there so much faster with his baby and regrets for a moment he left her at the station’s parking lot.

 

The two-floor-building they reach is old and there are no signs outside about _News from behind the Veil._ Only a parking mark and a stop sign at the end of the narrow street. The address is correct though, they both check it twice. Don pushes his sunglasses on the hairline and creaks the door open. It’s dim inside and Dean itches to take out his gun. Still, it would be too much, he finds the light switch instead. It flickers for a while before turning steady. Huh, good sign or a bad sign?

“I think it said they’re on the second floor,” Don mutters before looking at the stairs.

“Yeah, it did.”

The stairs are dusty, the eighteenth step screeching painfully in his ears. There are no signs on the second floor either.

“I guess we’ll just knock on the doors,” Don lifts his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’ll take the left side,” Dean turns to left.

“Don’t get yourself killed in a fucking newspaper office!” Don shouts after him. How very caring of him. “Sure!” he responds and starts knocking.

No body answers. That is so not a good sign. If this is a business building, shouldn’t there be freaking people around? He reaches for his gun, but then on an impulse drags out the knife from his right boot and shoves it behind his back. Just in case. This whole house seems like a haunted castle. He gets to the ninth door and knock. “Hello?” There’s a swift of wind and shuffling behind the door. He tries to open it, but it’s locked. “FBI?” he tries again and touches the head of the knife with his fingertips.

The key turns. Once. Twice.

Very slowly the door is pulled inwards and Steve Clarence is standing in front of him, looking right in his eyes. The left corner of his mouth lifts and he takes a step, making room for Dean to enter. “Hello, Dean,” he says with a low voice.

Dean’s heart skips a beat. How the fuck does the guy know his name? He clasps the knife harder and asks: “How the fuck do you know my name?”

“You are quite well known in certain circles,” he tilts his head as if that explained everything, “there’s no need for the knife, I assure you I am no threat to you.”

Huh? What? He lets go of the knife and instead offers his hand: “Dean Winchester.” His throat’s getting dry, the intense gaze is still holding on to him.

“I go by Steve Clarence, please, do come in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was fun to read! (and you can totally come and pester me, if there hasn't been an update for more than a week! love you all!)  
> and yeah, i couldn't let go of Eileen, not after 12x17 :)


	9. Better liar than expected (Benny)

 

“Steve, who’s at the door?” Benny moves up from his comfy armchair, almost knocking his knee at the table. He can’t make out the words from quiet voices and slowly stretches himself towards the door. “Steve?” He leans on the doorframe, Steve appears to be having an odd conversation of stares with a guy with sandy brown hair and pretty face, not even paying attention to Benny. Could hurt a guy’s feelings like that.

The new guy flinches up from the daze: “Oh right, Dean Winchester, FBI,” he introduces himself, offering a hand.

Benny takes it and squeezes warmly: “Benjamin Lafitte, but people call me Benny a whole lot more.”

“Right,” Dean rubs his hands briefly on his thighs, “sorry, there’s, I’ll call my partner here, if you don’t mind,” he presses out and slips from the door, leaving it open behind him. “Don! Hey, Eppes, over here!” his muffled voice echoes to the rooms.   
Benny shares a look with Steve, who shrugs, but seems a bit tense. “So, FBI? What have we done this time?”

“Probably about the case,” Steve mumbles and tightens his lips, “Dean’s not just…” he fails to end his thoughts as Dean and another man are back. Shorter, dark hair and sunglasses lifted up on the forehead.

“Don Eppes, FBI,” he gets to the point right away, “which one of you is Steve Clarence?” he folds his arms on the chest.

“That would be me, agent Eppes. Is there a, how can I help you?” Steve asks calmly. He ain’t calm, Benny can see that much.

“Agents, why don’t we all step further, take a seat? There’s only two of us here today, we’re more of the work-at-home type of journal. Benjamin Lafitte,” he adds with a nod to agent Eppes, who shakes his hand quickly and firmly.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he says, eyeing Steve.

They get back to the main room, where three computers keep buzzing and the desk is filled with papers and pictures of various supernatural creatures. Dean picks one of them up and whistles: “Ooh, that a pagan god? Looks lifelike. And smoking,” he winks at Steve. Was he just trying to flirt? Eppes scoffs: ”Winchester!”

“Yes, Kali does look _smoking_ when she’s holding literal fire,” Steve snaps the picture back and Benny almost laughs out loud at Dean’s confused face.

“So, mister Clarence, is that your real name?” Eppes suddenly throws into the conversation and any urge to laugh is gone.

“Why wouldn’t it be my real name, agent?” Steve narrows his eyes at the man.

“So it is? Are you aware it is illegal to impersonate a federal officer?” comes the next question. Shit. Is this about Reznik? He’d told Steve not to go in as a fed.

“I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding here somewhere,” he tries to jump in and salvage the situation.

“You don’t look like a Steve,” Dean’s eyes are focused on Steve, who looks back at him and answers with a chilliness he usually reserves for threatening people. “And you don’t act like an agent.”

“You talking to Ronald Reznik sure was acting like an agent, coming back to the topic,” Don interferes their gazing.

“Was I? I don’t recall ever saying I was an agent, perhaps you should talk to your witness again.” Steve lies. Benny _knows_ he’s lying, but damn is he good at that. This is not natural, Steve is the worst liar in the city.

“So, you’re saying he’s lying?”

“I…I admit I did talk to him, yes, but I never claimed to be an agent, he must have assumed I was. I’m terribly sorry, I don’t think I said I was a journalist, perhaps that’s why he was confused? Perhaps he was waiting for you to appear and that’s the reason he decided I was in fact an agent? Forgive me, I don’t understand where I made a mistake,” he looks back and forth between the agents, squinting his eyes and looking like he’s confused. Not natural.

“For starters, you did not say you were from this _News From Behind the Veil_ magazine, we have every reason to believe you lied to him.”

“Right. Like you never lie while conducting your investigation, am I right, _agent_ Winchester?” Steve throws at Dean.

“I’m sorry, is this going to be who lied to who conversation? It does seem rather pointless to me,” Benny jumps in, visibly irritating Eppes with it. Dean and Steve are having a silent conversation again, what the hell is up with those two? Seems as if Steve hit the nerve with that agent remark. That’s unexpected.

“You calling our investigation pointless? You were also at the morgue,” Eppes looks at Steve.

“I had my credentials, it is not illegal to talk to people if they want to talk to me. I’ve never forced anyone’s hand on that matter. Nor have I ever made anyone confess their sins. I can apologize to mister Reznik for the miscommunication, but unless you want to arrest me, I don’t think I have anything to talk to you about. That is of course,” Steve looks pointedly at Dean, “you don’t want to talk about demons or ghosts or witches or pagan gods or the usual supernatural suspects?”

Dean shifts nervously and slides a hand over his mouth: “I mean, naah, it’s, yeah, I don’t think that’s necessary, how about you, Don?”

“How come this house is empty and dark, it is a business building, right?” the guy looks at Benny now, clearly not convinced of any of the excuses.

“Bad neighborhood, shaky electricity, the place is pretty much empty ‘cept for us, agent Eppes. Would you like to see what we have put together on the investigation? Like Steve mentioned, we are largely leaning towards demons, but something’s slightly off, there’s no sulphur smell for instance and there is no proof of the ladies being possessed.” Benny stoops to the same level that Steve started with – intimidate with the crazy, works almost all the time.

“What? You mean to say you guys really believe the nonsense you write in your magazine,” Eppes lets out a low whistle and shakes his head, “now I do think I’ve seen it all.”

“I can assure you, you have not,” Steve gives him a look and Don avoids his eyes almost immediately. Benny manages to hold back the laugh only because he notices Dean’s reaction. It is something else entirely. Could he be aware? Huh.

“Yeah? Well, we do want your materials _and_ ,” Eppes is gesturing at Steve, “do not leave the city.”

“Of course,” Steve confirms and Benny sees that as a sign to collect everything they’ve put together and hand it over.

“If we find anything else, we’ll let you know,” he says while throwing papers and photos in a single folder. It’s not much and the FBI probably has it all already.

“Yeah, please do so,” Dean hands his card to Steve, but then pulls it back, “listen, if I don’t answer this one, then my personal number should do it,” he scribbles another number on the piece of paper and shoves it at Steve, who lifts a corner of his mouth.

Benny gives the folder to agent Eppes, who is now judging his partner. Most likely thinking they’re all insane.

“Our contacts,” he places the business card on top of the folder and taps on it, “we have nothing to hide, but we are very helpful. I’m glad we could clear up the misunderstanding and you can get back to finding the real culprits.” He lets out a grin.

“We’ll see about that,” Don is not amused, “Winchester, we have work to do,” he exits without a nod or a goodbye. Not convinced, huh?

“Yeah, so we’ll talk later, huh?” Dean raises eyebrows at Steve.

“Of course, Dean. I wish you luck on the investigation.”

“Thanks, _Steve_ ,” the pointed way he says earns a little smile from Steve, “Benny.”

“See you, agent Winchester,” Benny waves as the man leaves and joins his partner.

“You’re one lucky fellow, Steve Clarence,” he says when he’s certain the agents are outside of the hearing range, “and where the hell did you learn to lie that swiftly?”

“It was needed, I have no intention of getting arrested.”

“Should’ve thought about that before pretending to be an agent.”

“And miss out Dean Winchester coming to me?” Steve bites back and plays with the card in his hands.

“What is it with that guy? Does he know?” it was rare of any kind of law enforcement to know about the supernatural.

“Yes. You’ve never heard of him?”

“Can’t say that I have. Who is he?”

“A hunter, pretty famous, but most of all, efficient.” Steve answers as he searches out his phone, “I should send him a message with a time and place for a meeting.”

Benny whistles and sinks back in to his armchair. “Shit, you know a lot.” Then something dawns on him, the pointed words and glances. “Is Steve Clarence even your real name?”

Steve looks up, his fingers stilling for a moment: “No. I do apologize if that helps?” he adds with a questioning tilt of his head. That’s some messed up new information.

“Uh-huh. Sure hope you’re not the bad guy here.”

“Yes. I hope so too,” is Steve’s (or whoever the hell he is) answer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long! thanks for you patience!


	10. One More Charlie (Liz)

 

“So, our  prime suspects are Sam Winchester and the journalist? I don’t know, I would count him out. I checked out the magazine and it’s some creepy stuff, but I can’t really picture them killing someone for a story. They’re more of a research journal. Tips how to recognize and kill supernatural creatures. I mean,” Liz pushes a pen behind her ear and taps the table with her fingers, “unless they thought the victims weren’t human or some shit like that. What do we know about that Reznik guy? Seems likeable, but he was the first one on the scene.”

Colby shrugs his shoulders: “Yeah, but he also has a solid alibi for the other murder. He’s at work, on the camera the whole time. I feel like everything’s still pointing at Winchester. Unless we have real magic at play her, heh?” he winks and Liz smiles at the attempt to make it all lighter.

“There’s a lot of mystery around this, the way they were killed, the markings. Perhaps we should look for other people dabbling in occult. Brings Steve Clarence back into the picture, doesn’t it? I wish we knew how it all happened.”

There’s a noise coming from the door and Don appears, along with Dean. Why does it have to be such a damn mess?

“So how’d it go? I see you haven’t brought anyone along?”

Dean shuffles himself on the background, shakes his head, but focuses on the phone in his hands.

“Not for now,” Don says. Dean’s quick glance up almost escapes Liz’s eyes. Almost. “Seems it would be a waste of time. Their research,” he slams a pack of papers on the table, “probably not our guy, but suspicious as freaking hell. Who even makes these kinds of sketches their job,” he slips out a picture of horned man, “fuck, we’re not getting anywhere like this. Anything come up with the list doctor MacLeod gave us?”

“The algorithm just started running,” Colby jumps in the conversation, “I still feel there’s some behind the markings though.”

Dean looks up again, bites his lip and offers quietly: “They’re most often called sigils, magical signs. Pretty sure there’s some info about them in that pile of sketches you just wanted to throw away.”

“Thought your brother was the occult expert?” Don’s tongue is sharp, the guy seems on the verge of losing it. Must be the new situation he’s caught in.

Dean only shrugs: “Just a thing I know, thought it could be useful. Seriously, those journalists seemed pretty competent on the matter. If I was you, I’d check all that for sigils.”

Colby grabs the papers, takes a seat and starts flipping through them. Where the hell did he get that obsession? Like a dog with a bone.

“So, uh,” Dean is straightening himself, “my coworker should get here any minute now and,” is he nervous? “Well, she’s really a nice person, can be a bit overbearing, but, kind of a nerd, just, just don’t bite her head off, capiche?” he finishes.

“This Bradbury, right? Why’s she so important?” Don is impatient.

Dean huffs a laugh, clearly caring about this woman. “Well, Charlie can do wonders with a computer and I trust her completely. So there’s that.”

“What?” Don throws his hands in the air and Liz has difficulties hiding her laughter. He’s adorably comical, takes her back to the time they were both young and reckless. Well, she’s still young, Don not so much. Except right now.

“Is there a problem?” Dean’s eyes flicker from Don to Liz and even Colby, who’s sucked his lips in in order to not laugh.

“A problem? No, why would there be a problem? My investigation is being taken over by the brother of my main suspect and someone named Charlie, who is not my brother. How am I supposed to get used to that? There’s no problem at all,” he’s not exactly yelling, but not that far from it either. Seems slightly annoyed.

“Hey, we’re all in it together,” Liz slips in and locks her eyes with Don’s.

“Right, no biting heads, fine,” he calms down quickly, “I gotta check my mail, let me know when she arrives,” he waves awkwardly by the door and disappears into his office.

“That seemed a bit overreacting?” Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, his brother’s name happens to be Charlie and he used to be a consultant here, composing formulas and algorithms, helped on a lot of cases. He moved for a year just recently. And honestly, no one’s happy about you hijacking the case.” Maybe it’s better to clean the air?

“I know, alright? But believe me, it’s necessary.” He’s almost apologetic about all of this. “If it’s any comfort, Charlie’s not her real name, just the one she prefers.”

“Naah, he was overreacting, been walking the line these couple of days. Not accusing, just how it is. Plus, soon to be married,” she adds without really thinking it through.

“Really? That’s cool,” Dean smiles openly.

“What? You pro marriage with all the flirting you do?” Colby cuts in. Seems harsh, but Liz knows better, there’s a smile hidden in those words.

“Hey! Don’t judge a book by its cover, those are some stereotypical assumptions you’re making,” Dean’s playfully pointing his finger.

Colby lets out a laugh. “Didn’t think you were interested?” Dean continues.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the effort,” Colby sing-songs and gathers his full focus back on the papers.

“Man after my own heart,” Dean mumbles.

“You always like this, Winchester?” Liz throws in the question right when the door opens and a redhead with a laptop clutches to her chest squeezes in.

“Yes, he is. Or at least pretends to be,” the girl winks an eye to her before turning to Dean, “oh, I haven’t seen you so long, seems like years. Lemme put this down,” she places the computer on a desk and grabs onto Dean instead to give him a long hug.

“Heya, kid,” Dean pats her head on his chest.

“So, what’s up?” she hops away from the hug and searches the room, “who’re  we working with? This the case Sam’s involved in?”

“Yeah. Charlie, these are agents Colby Granger and Liz Warner. You should meet the others soon enough. I’ll go get the boss,” Dean nods to her and goes to search for Don.

“Hi there!” Charlie waves adorably before stepping closer, “I’m the more fun and amazing part of your new team, hope Dean hasn’t been too insufferable?” she flashes a smile.

“He’s been okayish so far,” Liz answers before she notices her shirt with a miniature girl from Harry Potter, swinging a wand at a black feather along with printer words _vingardium leviosa!_ Charlie follows her gaze: “Hermione’s my spirit animal,” she says with a twinkle in her bright eyes.

“Oh. That like a guardian angel or..?”

“Something like that. She’s awesome.”

“Like you?” Liz can’t stop herself from going along with it.

“Now you’re getting it,” Charlie wets her lips and gives Liz a once-over with much more heated gaze than before. She quickly turns to Colby then. “Whatya doing? Searching for sigils? I was afraid it’ll be that kind of a case,” her tone of voice goes from playful to serious in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, Charlie,” Dean’s voice calls out and the girl jumps up from leaning toward’s Colby’s desk. “This is Don Eppes, thee agent in charge.”

Chalie looks briefly at Dean and turns to Don: “Nice to meet you, Charlie Bradbury,” she offers a hand and Don shakes it.

“Yeah, good to have you. Heard you’re a computer girl? You need some equipment? We’re quite high tech.”

“You gotta war room? I can settle there and until I should need more power.”

“Good. Good. We’ve got a couple of consultants working on formulas. Maybe you can collaborate?” Don offers.

“Oh. That would be cool. I usually work alone, but can’t say a no to an offer like that. Anyone I might know?”

“Larry Fleinhardt is our go-to guy at the moment,” Don can’t finish before Charlie’s eyes go large and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

“You’re kidding? I love his work! He’s like this living breathing insane professor of all things impossible. Do you know he went to space? And then he just disappears without a trace. And not the Dean kind of disappearing but the meaning-of-life disappearance. I love his papers! Went to see his guest lecture once, but god was that boring. What a fascinating contrast, don’t you think?”

Liz almost bursts out a giggle at Charlie’s enthusiasm. What a beautiful breath of fresh air.

“Uh, yes, I do know that,” even Don smiles a little, “come on, I’ll show you where you can place yourself.”

“Okay. Damn, I’m almost glad Sam got himself in trouble. Why don’t you never introduce me to famous scientists?” Charlie punches Dean in the shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you guys!” she grabs her laptop and goes after Don.

“She’s lovely,” Liz remarks when she’s out of the hearing distance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for staying with me! :)


	11. Found a Connection! (Charlie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i'm extremely late, thanks for sticking with this story! i've had troubles with finding motivation, but here's another chapter. hope you'll like it, i did enjoy writing it!

 

The moment Charlie has settled in her workplace she digs up her phone and messages Dean.

_You didn’t tell me she’s gorgeous!_

**_Who? Liz? Please don’t start anything, things’re already messy_ **

_Shussh! I know what I’m doin. So, what’s the deal with the sigils?_

**_Don’t know. Sam’s on it_ **

_That wise? He’s a suspect_

**_Yeah well who else is gonna do it?_ **

_So what’s up with the journalists?_

**_Don’t know yet_ **

_There anything u do know? Mr best hunter in the world_

**_First, I’ve never said that abt myself, not my fault if actions speak for themselves_ **

_Oh, please!_

**_Second, I’m gonna meet with the Steve guy tonight_ **

_What? alone?_

**_Aww, you worried?_ **

_Never_

**_Good. He just seemed to know me_ **

_Huh? He a hunter?_

**_Dunno_ **

_Duh, that’s what I’ve been saying_

**_Shut up_ **

_You love me!_

**_Yeah-yeah_ **

_Seriously take Sam with you_

**_He’s not gonna try anything_ **

_Until you’re in a body bag_

**_And I’m not incompetent_ **

_Send me his info, I’ll see what I can dig up_

**_There, happy?_ **

_Damn, he’s dreamy, I get why’d want some alone time_

**_Shut it_ **

_Have you talked to Sam yet?_

**_Not really_ **

_Damn it Dean, he’s a murder suspect! He needs his brother_

**_And I’m here, aren’t i?_ **

_Ugh, u know what I mean_

**_Yeah well, it’s not like we don’t get along, we’re just not sharing feelings_ **

_I should call him. I’m gonna call him_

**_No you won’t_ **

_Fine! But no promises about my sweet goddess before_

**_Whatever, gotta go_ **

****

Charlie throws the phone back into her bag and, convinced that the search on sigils she’d been assigned to is running, starts to hit the keys on her personal laptop to find this Steve Clarence from _News Beyond the Veil._  This guy needs to be something special to recognize Dean and unsettle him like that. Nothing. Well, if she can’t accept a challenge like that, she’s not worth her name. She cracks her knuckles and starts digging other people associated with the magazine. Benjamin Lafitte, born and raised Louisiana, moved to LA four years ago, charges of a minor assault back home, clean sheet since then, articles mostly about vampires. Garth Fitzgerald IV, works part time for the journal, full time babysitter? Seriously? Seems to be specialized on werewolves. Joanna Harvelle, specializing on ghosts, damn she’s cute, but apparently just moved out of town and is contributing rarely these days. Billie Scythe, that’s not a real name, is it? And her area of expertise are reapers? That is so not a real name. What the hell is this magazine? Just as she’s about to think those were all the authors collaborating she finds Max Banes and witches. Added to Steven Clarence for demons and angels? Wait-wait-wait, is that where his last name comes from? Huh. Interesting. Especially since there’s no such thing as angels. To think that all their articles seem to be truthful, as far as Charlie can tell at least, it’s stunning that they’d list angels among the creatures that humans should be aware of. That’s slightly disturbing. According to the Steve-guy, angels can heal and smite people instantly. And you should never say yes to an angel, unless you want to die a long and torturous death. Lovely. Good thing they’re not real. Though the healing thing would be nice, no stupid comas after car accidents…

Ok, so now the families and their network. Charlie dives deeper into the mystery that is The Band of Veil, as she starts to think of them. It’s a tedious detail searching and at some point she forgets to take notes, leaving the pen in her mouth. Next of kin…Steve comes out empty, like he didn’t have any digital fingerprint left. Two years he’s been with the magazine and that’s all, all that she can find. Ridiculous. Andrea Kormos seems to be Benny’s wife? Fiancée? Their pictures are a filled with heart eyes and Andrea works as an event planner. Ok, next is Bess, Garth’s wife. Aww, they seem such lovely people! Damn it, she really wanted to not like them, it never ends well, does it? Ellen Harvelle, Jo’s mother, works as a bounty hunter. Well, that’s something, might be they all really do know the supernatural world. Billie Scythe, the only thing she finds are a few pictures of an old man who looks suspiciously like death and a photo of a lady, who’s tagged as Tessa. She can’t find anything about them. Max Banes, mother Tasha, father deceased, sister Alicia as the emergency contact. Wait-wait-wait! Now wait just a second! Alicia Banes, who works as a receptionist at the freaking library, the same freaking CalSci library that Sam does!

“Gotcha!” she fistbumps the air before remembering that library doesn’t really have anything to do with the murders, apart from the suspect working there. But shit, that’s some ridiculous coincidence.

_Found a connection btwn the veil and the library!_

She quickly types to Dean, but there is no reply. She chews her pen. Technically she works for Dean here and should be answering only to him, but since Dean hasn’t taken over the investigation completely, she’s allowed to bring others in to share her findings, right?

For a second she hovers over Sam’s name, but it would only complicate matters, if she’d involve him in spying on his coworker. Nope. She waits five more minutes for Dean to answer and then peeks out of the door.

“Hey, peeps, I think I got something?” she raises her voice in a question mark towards Colby and Liz, who’re apparently still in the station, “Dean’s not answering, should I go to Don with it or what?”

“What you got?” it’s Colby, who answers her, without looking up from the photos he’s still concentrated on.

“There’s a guy writing for _News Beyond the Veil_ who’s sister, Alicia Banes, happens to be working at the CalSci Library, specializes on witchcraft.”

“The library isn’t under investigation,” damn, Warner’s voice is nice on the ears.

“No, but still, hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?” she smiles to her.

“Might be worth to check it out?” Colby turns to look at Charlie, “it’s not like we’ve got a lot else. I’ll let Don know. Anything on the sigils?”

“Not yet. Well, one of them is protection against evil eye, but that’s a pretty common one, don’t think it’ll help.”

“Ok, thanks,” Colby stretches and leaves the room, probably in search of the boss. Charlie turns her attention to Liz.

“So, you’ve been working here for a while?” she twirls a lock of her hair and leans on a desk nearby.

Liz lifts a corner of her mouth, but clearly refuses to smile. “I’ve been around. Known Don longer though, from the academy,” she shrugs and taps her fingers on the table.

“The academy? That’s the Quantico thing, right? Sorry, I’m more of a self taught hacker.”

“Really? How’d you end up here then?”

On the run from the law, got almost killed by leviathans, helped to crack the code needed to banish Lucifer in a cage and out of the president, got snatched by Victor Henriksen to do freelance work for top secret government unit, basically I’m the girl who covers up the alien attacks … naah, that would be too tiring to explain.

“Just doin’ some good in the world.”

“I see,” a long look travels over Charlie’s body. Oh, she still has it. “So you’re friends with Dean, must be friends with Sam Winchester as well?”

“Now, why you gotta go and ruin it? We had a perfectly nice conversation,” Charlie pouts and flops on a chair, “yeah, sure, I’m friends with Sam and I happen to know he hasn’t killed anyone. I mean, not humans anyway, although there was,” oh, backtrail, backtrail! She shakes her head. “Sam’s one of the good guys, I’d trust them both with my life. They’ve saved my life, I’ve saved theirs, that’s how it goes.”

“What about their father?” how can she sound so irresistible while clearly trying to interrogate?

Charlie shakes her head furiously. “Sorry, not a girl to ask.”

“Ok, ok, wasn’t trying to pry!” Liz raises her hands.

“Sure, I believe you,” she really doesn’t, “but if you ever wanna _pry_ something that’s not about men in my life, you let me know,” she puts as much innuendo in the word as she can muster up and winks. Liz smirks, looks away and clears her throat. That’s a good sign, right?

A creak of the door and Colby re-entering snaps them out of the cute moment. Damn.

“I’m gonna go talk to this sister, it appears she’s working today. You coming?” he addresses Liz, who shakes her head. Just as Charlie thinks she might get lucky and they’d be the only two people here, the recognizable voice starts talking right behind her.

“Well, hello! Sorry I’m rather late today…”

Charlie turns and is looking right at Larry Fleinhardt, lifesize, flesh and blood, right here, looking like he just lost something.

 


End file.
